


Wisdom

by Diary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abused Isaac Lahey, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Canon Queer Character, Dimension Travel, Everyone Has Issues, Family, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, Memory Alteration, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Multiverse, Murder, Non-Canonical Character Death, POV Multiple, Parallel Universes, Post-Episode AU: s01e11 Formality, Pre-Season/Series 02 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Repost. AU. “There’s a headline, isn’t there? ‘Derek Hale didn’t think something through. He thought he knew best, and nothing would change his mind.’” Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

**Scott**

Pulling Scott away from Allison, Derek hauls him up. “Scott. He’s dying. I told you I’d help kill him.”

He leads Scott over to Peter, and after a few seconds of looking down at the burnt, dying Peter, Scott recoils. “There- there has to be a better way.”

“There isn’t. Do you still want to be human?”

“Yes,” Scott answers, “but not-”

“Close your eyes." When Scott looks over, he insists, “Close your eyes. I’m going to help you.”

Taking a shaky breath, Scott complies.

With his eyes briefly flashing red, Derek uses his claws to make a small cut on Scott’s arm.

Scott transforms, and the cut instantaneously heals.

“Keep them closed." He pushes Scott to his knees. “You value life, Scott, and that’s admirable. But it’s not right to let someone hurt you and never do anything to fix it. The bite is reserved for those who deserve it, and most importantly, those who want what is offered. It’s not a curse or a punishment.”

Wrapping his hands around Scott’s wrist, he says, “Latch onto to Allison’s scent, to her heartbeat.”

Scott takes a breath. “I always do. Derek-”

“Think of being human, Scott." He moves the hand closer to Peter’s throat. “Think of being human, of being free to see her, of one day marrying her and having children.”

“Derek’s still alive,” Peter mutters.

Scott’s claws slash against his neck.

Pushing Scott away from the body and flat onto his back, Derek watches as he convulses and his claws, teeth, and extra hair rapidly disappear until his eyes flash yellow, and then, return to brown.

Breaking free from Chris's hold, Allison runs over.

Blocking her, Derek says, “There’s wolfsbane over there. Go pick it. Bring it over.”

“Do it, please,” Scott says.

“Scott, what if it hurts you?”

“Then, we’ll know,” he says with a small smile. “It’s okay, just please, do it.”

Getting it, she kneels down next to him. Taking the flower from her hand, he brings it to his nose. “It smells nice,” he declares. “Allison, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Catching Derek’s eye, he pulls Allison closer and breathes out, “Thank you.”

…

**Boyd**

Boyd grimaces when a marble hits him.

“Sorry,” a voice says, and he turns to see a man with a bowl of marbles in his hand looking at him apologetically. “Did I hurt you?”

“No." He holds the marble out.

“Thank you. Uh, I guess I should find a better way to occupy my time while I wait. One of my brothers taught me how skip marbles against the wall and have them land in the bowl, but apparently, I prefer hitting my siblings’ potential classmates.”

Smiling slightly, Boyd says, “If you want, I can probably help you.”

“Thank you.” The man offers his hand. “I’m Derek.”

“Boyd.” He takes the bowl and pours the marbles into his hand. “What do you mean ‘potential’?”

“I have a large family,” Derek answers. “It hasn’t been decided if we’re going to stay, or if this is just temporary. Is this a good school?”

Shrugging, Boyd picks up a marble. “I’m not the best person to ask. Here, watch me.” As he explains what he’s doing and why, the marble skips across the wall three times, and then, lands in the bowl.

Derek only manages to skip across the wall once. “Well, most of my siblings are very likeable, and they’re all adaptable. What’d I do wrong?”

“Here.” Boyd guides his hand. “Adaption’s good. I’ve been here most of my life, and I still- Never mind.”

He still eats lunch alone. He’s joined ROTC, lacrosse, and taken an art class. People talk to him sometimes, and the sheriff’s annoying kid, Stiles, will sometimes fork over money when he needs something, but he has no one. Some of it, he’ll admit, is his own fault for not being able to get over things, but he’s yet to figure out how to make himself more approachable or force himself to be.

“Try it,” he says.

Derek manages to do it perfectly, and he smiles at Boyd. “Thank you. Care for a friendly competition?”

“Sure."

“If I win-”

“Wait, that isn’t fair. What could I get if I won?”

“One of my little sisters loves to bake,” Derek says. “If you win, I’ll bribe her into baking whatever you want.”

“Huh."

“If I win,” Derek continues, “tomorrow, you find a girl who’s sitting alone at lunch and ask to join her.”

“Why would that be your terms?”

“One of my sisters is going through an awkward, shy phase. Wherever we end up, I hope she’ll find friends.”

“Okay. Three out of three?”

“That sounds good.”

They both succeed on their first and second attempts, and Boyd comments, “We might have to do a tie-breaker.”

“We might,” Derek says, and for just a brief second, there’s something strange about his eyes.

Boyd fumbles.

“You might still win,” Derek offers before promptly winning himself.

“Good job.” Boyd holds out his hand.

“Thanks,” Derek says. His cell phone beeps, and taking it out, he reads it with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll catch you later. Right now, I have to go deal with a truant.”

“Sorry, man. Do you want me to find your brothers and sisters?”

“No, it’s okay. They knew, and they’ll know, now. Take care of yourself, and find that girl.”

“Okay."

…

**Erica**

The substitute nurse comes in, and Erica feels her face flush.

“Hello,” he says.

She squirms at the warm, fond look he gives her.

He sits down. “Nurse Jameson is dealing with five flat tires and a gas leak.”

“Oh." She wonders if bad days are going around and infecting everyone.

“She’s fine. She should be back in a day or two, but in the meantime, I want to try to talk to students with serious medical conditions. How are you doing, Erica?”

“Fine,” she answers. “I’ve been taking my medicine consistently, and um, avoiding flashing lights.”

A month ago, there’d been a teacher who didn’t know any better and hadn’t automatically made her leave after announcing they’d be watching a movie. She knows she should have told the teacher and left, but Stiles had sat down near her and offered her some gummy worms. She knows it wasn’t a date and knows he didn’t even really register her presence, but- she’d just wanted to sit next to him and watch the movie.

Instead, he’d ended up with a bloody nose and teeth marks on his hands and fingers. She’d smacked him when she started seizing, and then, he must have tried to hold her down or turn her on her side or something, and somehow, his fingers had gotten near her mouth.

Before this, she’d had a vague plan of eventually getting her cousin to give her a makeover and subtly working her way into his life. Even if he never returned her feelings, at least, she’d have an awesome friend. She’s seen how lucky Scott McCall is to have him.

The nurse gives her a look, and she has the bizarre feeling he knows she’s lying.

Except, she’s isn’t.

“Last week, you tried to walk across a balance beam in gym class with no safety mat underneath.”

She winces. “I d-didn’t have a seizure. I just- didn’t have good balance.”

“Okay. There’s going to be a point to this. I have a little sister who was sick when she was younger. People either babied her or made her life hell. But I knew from the moment I saw her that she was a very tough, smart, pretty girl. She’s going to grow up to be- something very few people expect.”

“She’s lucky to have a brother like you,” she offers.

This causes a look of sadness to cross his face, and he shakes his head. “You’re a very tough, smart, beautiful girl, Erica.”

She looks away. She wants to believe he really sees her as these things, but she knows, like her parents and teachers, he’s just worried and wants to be nice.

“I’m serious. I know things are bad, now, and I wish I could do more to help. What I can do is give you advice.”

Trying to smile, she nods.

“There’s a difference between pushing yourself and hurting yourself. There’s a difference between protecting yourself and completely isolating yourself. If you want to learn to walk on a balance beam, do it over a safety mat until you’re reasonably sure you won’t fall. You eat in the bathroom, don’t you? Try eating in the cafeteria. You never know when someone might be looking for you without even knowing it.”

“Right. Um, how did you know, Mister-”

“Hale,” he answers. “There’s more than most realise in student files.”

“Oh.”

Smiling, he leans forward. “Just for today, at least, try eating in the cafeteria. If it doesn’t work, I probably won’t be here tomorrow anyways.” When she doesn’t answer, he prods, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she finds herself agreeing. “T-thank you. For being nice and for treating me- I really am glad your sister has someone like you.”

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes.” Standing, she opens the door. “Goodbye, Erica.”

She stands, and bracing herself, she hugs him and smiles when she feels him tentatively returning it.

…

**Boyd and Erica**

Boyd is heading for his normal spot in the cafeteria when he hears snickering.

Following the direction of it, he sees a messy-haired blonde girl practically curling into her chair and looking down at her tray. Searching his mind, he vaguely remembers the school has an epileptic girl. Plenty of people can manage it, but this one apparently bit Stiles (even if it was a complete accident, Boyd still reflexively thinks, ‘He deserved it.’) and was once recorded having a seizure. He never searched for it, but he’s heard it was temporarily online until her parents got mean (good for them, is his only thought on the matter).

He’s not a hero. He’s decent to others (Stiles doesn’t count) and polite to teachers, but he doubts he come out with the label of ‘good guy’ if he were judged under a microscope.

Besides, asking to sit down with her, how would it help, and what’s to say she wouldn’t interpret it badly?

Hearing the clink of marbles, he looks over to see two little freshmen playing with ones resembling the one Derek had been playing with.

“What the hell,” he mutters.

Taking a breath, he wishes he could remember her name. “Excuse me.”

She looks up.

“Would you mind if I sat here?”

She gives him a dirty, suspicious look, and he shuffles on his. “I’m not going to make fun of you. I always sit alone, and I promised someone that I’d find someone else who was sitting alone today and see if I could join them.”

Giving a small nod, she waves her hand. Then, after he’s sat down, she blurts out, “Was it Nurse Hale?”

“Who? I didn’t know Nurse Jameson left.”

“No. Nurse Hale was just a substitute. I always eat in the bathroom, and he told me to try eating in the cafeteria today.”

“Oh. No. I played a game of marbles with someone waiting for his brothers and sisters yesterday, and I guess he had a feeling I didn’t have any friends.”

“Erica,” she says.

“Boyd.”

They eat in silence until she says, “It’s sometimes dangerous for me to watch movies. I can’t be around flowers, and- if you don’t have friends, you don’t want to be around me. I’m weak and pathetic, and everyone likes to laugh.”

Setting his fork down, he picks up a napkin. “I’m a benchwarmer on lacrosse. I can’t handle a weapon in ROTC. You’re the first person I’ve had lunch with since middle school. Here.” He holds out the origami flower. “From someone in the same boat. I think you can be around this one.”

“T-thank you,” she says. “You’re not pathetic. And I doubt you’re weak.”

“If you get to decide that about me in less than ten minutes, I get to do the same." Reaching over for her napkin, he asks, “Can you watch any TV?”

“There’s no TV at my house. My parents got rid of it when I was diagnosed. I read a lot of comic books. Batman and Robin are my heroes.”

“Do you know of any werewolf comics? I’ve always found them interesting.”

By the time lunch is over, Erica has six flowers, and as he’s walking her to class, she takes a deep breath. “Do you like- I love to bake. It’s one thing my parents trust me to do without hurting myself, and in home ec., people actually want to partner with me. I could bring something tomorrow. You know, since you gave me all those.” She waves back to her locker where the flowers are safely stored.

“I’m allergic to vanilla,” he says. “Otherwise- surprise me, okay?”

“Okay."

They reach her classroom, and they both stand for a moment and simply look at each other.

Then, she smiles and squeezes his wrist before quickly ducking into the classroom.

He finds himself smiling.

…

  **Lydia and Peter**

Lydia doesn’t wake up when Derek barricades the door to her hospital room, turns her over, and sticks his claws in her neck.

“Derek,” a teenage boy says. “I’d ask how you know, but I wouldn’t be speaking to the nephew I’ve ever known, would I?”

“Hello, Uncle Peter.” Derek extends his claws. “Take a look.”

Cautiously, Peter pricks his finger on the claw.

He sees Derek cutting his body in half. He sees both hands burned. Finally, he sees the ashes spread, some in the lake near their house, some in the house, some on the graves of the Hales, and some simply into the wind.

“No.”

“Listen to my heart, feel my pulse, and look at my eyes. If it means anything, I’m sorry. I can’t let you use Lydia or anyone else.”

For a long moment, Peter stands with his eyes closed. When he opens them, tears silently fall, and nodding, he bars his neck.

“I don’t want to,” Derek says. “I forgive you for what you did. Now, please, just let go.”

Instead of resisting when Peter pulls him into a hug, he instantly returns it.

Then, he finds himself completely alone. Sighing, he closes his eyes and opens them to find himself back in the room. He cleans the two small, neat cuts on her neck, turns her back over, covers her up, and ignores her instinctive attempt to grab his hand.

…

**Matt**

Unlike Lydia, Matt senses his presence and struggles.

After Derek manages to get the claws in, Matt demands, “Who are you?”

“Someday, you might find me." He watches a younger Matt drowns. “Right now,” he twists his hand, and the memory shrinks and floats over to him, “you’re going to sleep. In the morning, your parents are going to worry, but even through your confusion, you’ll know that you’re feeling better than you have in a long time.”

Another memory of Coach Lahey yelling at him floats over with several others following. “You’ll have two cuts on the back of your neck. You’ll still be wary of water. Your feelings towards his death will confuse you. But,” he puts the memories in a box and locks it with a key, “if I do this right, you won’t be able to find the box or the key until you’re ready to handle the contents.”

Box and key vanish, and Derek closes his eyes and opens them to find himself back in Matt’s room. Carefully, he removes the claws, cleans up the mess the struggle made, and then, does for Matt what he did for Lydia.

…

**Jackson**

On the lacrosse field, Derek orders, “Give up.”

Jackson scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

“My uncle was an alpha. Only they can turn people. He’s dead. Scott’s human.”

“Then, I’ll find another way!”

“Do that, then,” Derek says. “It won’t help. Unless you’re mentally and emotionally ready, the bite will either turn you into something abominable or just kill you.”

“I’m ready.”

“You don’t value family. You don’t value love. The only person you’re out for is yourself. Pack is everything to werewolves. That’s why omegas rarely live long.”

Stepping closer, Jackson hisses, “You don’t know anything about me.”

Raising an eyebrow, Derek shoves him against the bleacher wall. “The family who adopted you went through hell to do it. They give you everything. A part of them would die if you did. And you can’t even try to love them. Because they don’t share blood with you? Blood can be important, but it’s not the be-all. What about Lydia? I can smell how you two feel about each other, but you’re both too wrapped up in how people you’re unlikely to ever see again in a few years think about you.”

Scoffing, he lets steps back. “You’re not worth the effort to kill, but others might disagree. I’d think long and hard before you go after something a supernatural cure to your self-inflicted problems, Jackson.”

Jackson wipes his eyes, and when he looks back up, Derek’s gone.

…

**Isaac**

He can’t even scream as he’s dragged.

“I’m sorry, Isaac,” a faceless voice says. “I promise this is the last time.”

Even in his terror, the fridge has a familiar feel along with the darkness and the click of the padlock echoing in his ears.

Disassociate, he reminds himself. He frantically tries to move any part of his body. Disassociate, a word he learned in English. He can-

Rolling down his face, a tear hits the cut on his lip.

He still can’t move a muscle.

/

Upstairs, Derek sits in the dark with his fist clenching and unclenching in time with Isaac’s erratic and too fast heartbeats.

Just as Coach Lahey’s car pulls in the driveway, Isaac overcomes the paralysis, and Derek flinches when knuckles and nails are torn to bits.

The kill is brutal but quick; with a tiny prick on the man’s neck, his heart gives out.

Derek drags him to the kitchen, wraps his fingers around a marker, and guides his hand across the kitchen’s refrigerator to make shaky letters. He lets the hand drop, the body fall backwards, and the marker rolls away.

Picking up the phone, he dials 911, sets it near the body, and leaves.

/

“He’s dead, sir,” one of the deputies says.

With an uneasy feeling intensifying inside him, Sheriff Stilinski looks at the messy, jagged words on the refrigerator: _Basement_.

“Call for an ambulance,” he orders.

In the basement, he sees a padlocked refrigerator lying on the floor, and he breathes out a horrified, sickened, “No,” when he hears a faint noise and sees the subtle movements of it. “Stay back,” he barks.

Rushing over, he breaks the lock with his baton, opens the lid, and automatically grabs Isaac’s clawing hands. “Isaac,” he says, and the boy automatically stills.

“That’s right. Listen, I need you to stay still. I’m going to lift you out.”

A whimper is Isaac’s only response.

Behind him, he can hear his deputy muttering.

Carefully, using strength he didn’t know he had, he lifts Isaac out and sets him down on the floor. When he lets go, Isaac instinctively grabs him. “Please.”

“Shh. I’m not going to hurt you or leave you. I’m getting my penlight out so that I can check pupil response.”

Isaac lets go.

“I’ll call for another ambulance,” the deputy says.

Isaac whimpers.

“No." Briefly, he wonders how many breaches of police and medical protocol he’s already broken. It doesn’t matter, he decides. “Isaac, we need to get you the hospital. If I ride in the back of a squad car with you, will you be okay?”

“Yes,” is the croaky answer.

“Okay,” he says.

“My dad?”

“We’ll talk about that at the hospital,” he promises. 

/

Coming over to his chair, Melissa tiredly says, “You need to talk to him."

Leaping to his feet, he responds, “What’s wrong? I thought he was-”

Sitting down and pulling him back into the chair, she says, “Sit down. I’m sorry, I should have eased into that. Physically, he’s going to be fine. Obviously, emotionally, it’s going to take some time. He insists that he somehow caused his father’s death. He doesn’t remember his father locking him into the freezer _today_ ,” she says with sadness and anger coating her words. “A faceless person did, and they told him that this was the last time it would happen.”

“Oh, crap,” he sighs.

“Yeah. I’m going to see if I can subtly guide Scott into looking out for him at school. In the meantime, you’re his hero.”

“Right.” Squeezing her hand, he stands up.

/

Sitting down next to the bed, he says, “Hey, Isaac.”

Isaac blinks blearily at him. “Sheriff,” he says. “Mrs McCall told you to talk to me?”

“Yeah, she did. Listen to me, Isaac. I’m not sure of the exact timeline, but I do know that your father had his heart attack while you were- you could have gotten into the freezer yourself and closed the door, but I guarantee that there’s no way you could have put the padlock on.”

Making sure Isaac is watching his movements, he places his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Absolutely none of what happened is your fault. None of it."

“Then, how do you explain this,” is the desperate response.

“Don’t ask me how to explain how it works, but there have been cases of people being able to sense when a family member or friend was about to be sick.” Looking down and fiddling with his ring, he says, “My son knew his mother was sick before anyone else did. I think that, when he put you inside, you got that feeling. The mind can be a funny thing, especially when people are hurt. For whatever reason, it made you confused and created this story to help you cope.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Isaac says. “I- I don’t know how to f-feel. He used his last- for me.”

“Well, first, don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” At Isaac’s nod, he continues, “You’re probably going to be feeling a lot of different things, and some of it will be hard to handle. No matter what you feel, there are certain things you can’t do. I need you to remember that. Then, maybe more importantly, I need you to believe that whatever you feel is fine. There’s no right or wrong when it comes to feelings. It’s what you do with them that matters.”

Isaac nods. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’re going to stay overnight, and tomorrow, a social worker will come and help you try to figure things out. I’ve left my contact information at the desk. Be sure to get it before you leave.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m serious, Isaac: Even if you just need someone to sit with you, you can call me.”

“Thank you. For everything,” Isaac yawns.

“Get some sleep.”

“Um. Wait, please. Will I be able to see Mrs McCall tomorrow?”

“She’s not going to let you leave until she’s decided for herself that you’re ready,” he promises. “Now, sleep.”

With one last nod, Isaac closes his eyes, and his breathing evens out.

Sheriff Stilinski covers him up, gently touches his cheek, turns off the lights, and hopes Stiles is still up so he can give him a hug and tell him how much he loves him.

…

**Stiles**

Stiles sets his books down, turns around, and exclaims, “Oh, dear God!”

From the desk chair, Derek simply looks.

“Derek, hey. I kind of assumed that with Scott being human, now, you’d stop with the creepy lurking.”

Standing up, Derek says, “I’m leaving town very soon.”

“Oh, uh, okay. And that ties into the creepy lurking in my bedroom? You’re not a fugitive, anymore, you know. Dad might not be happy, but uh, you’re free to leave.”

Derek nods towards Stiles’s desk, and being sure not to completely turn away from him, Stiles looks over to see a laptop.

“That’s all the information on the supernatural my family has collected. I took the password off. Put a new one on immediately. If you or Scott ever gets mixed up in something again, it might help.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “What’s the catch? I feel like there has to be a catch here.”

Derek starts to leave. 

“Wait. No, really. Why are you giving it to me?”

“You can understand and utilise it better than Scott can.”

“Okay. Listen: Thank you, for what you did for Scott. I know you probably only did it because you knew he’d never trust you and you’d never be free of me, but still. Or am I wrong?”

“Getting free of you is my top priority.” Derek inhales. “Goodbye, Stiles.”

Then, he’s out the window and gone.

…

**Derek**

Struggling against the electrified chains, Derek demands, “Who are you?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Time travel doesn’t exist,” Derek spits. “You’re an imposter, wearing my skin.”

Sitting down, the other answers, “Time travel may or may not exist, but alternate dimensions do. Theoretically, you can go to any point at time in a dimension different from your own. If I’m imposter, then, how have I fooled everyone? Stiles, Scott, Jackson, the Argents.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“I’m fixing the mess you, me, we would have made. You’re not ready to build your own pack, Derek.” He leans forward. “You can still be an alpha. But you need to leave town.”

“No.”

“I have proof that Peter wasn’t the only one who survived.”

Derek takes a deep breath, and the other says, “You know I’m not lying. I’ll help you become an alpha, but you have to leave and try to find them before you start offering the bite to humans.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Many reasons,” is the answer. “That doesn’t mean you will. Do you remember that day Sheriff Stilinski arrested you? Stiles climbed into the front seat. You learned some very important things that day, didn’t you?”

“Get to the point.”

“I have some contingencies in place. If you don’t leave soon, something is going to happen. It’s going to involve him. And trust me, you won’t be able to get yourself out of the trouble it’ll cause for you.”

“Your heart just skipped a beat.”

“You know him as Scott’s annoying, occasionally useful friend. I know a much different man. He’s done things that would drive this one mad.”

Derek studies him. “What’s your proof?”

/

“How do I become an alpha?”

Flashing red eyes and barring his throat, the other answers, “You kill one, of course.”

…

**Alan Deaton**

Finishing injecting a cat, Alan greets, “Mr Stilinski.” He looks over. “Strangely, Gerard Argent died in a car crash. No one by the name of Derek Hale was anywhere near him.”

“You above anyone should know that proximity is one of the least important factors in taking out an enemy. In fact, sometimes, the farther away you are, the easier it is to do.”

“Gerard hadn’t do anything, yet.”

“He’d done plenty, just as Lahey had. I’m too late, aren’t I?”

“Yes." He puts the cat back into a cage. “Follow me.”

In his office, he unlocks a large trunk and opens it to reveal a wolf with a slashed throat surrounded by wolfsbane petals.

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles quickly wipes his eyes against the tears.

“I can remove the wolfsbane,” Alan offers.

“No, I can tell. Do whatever he wanted you to with the body.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to find the Derek of this timeline.”

“Do you think that wise?”

Stiles scoffs. “You know as well as I do that question only has an effect if the recipient _cares_ , Dr.”

“What he did, messing with that which was destined and played out, can have serious, unforeseeable consequences.”

“There’s a headline, isn’t there? ‘Derek Hale didn’t think something through. He thought he knew best, and nothing would change his mind.’”

“It’s the same for you.”

“And there’s another one,” is the cold answer.

Alan sighs. “I can’t stop you.”

“It wouldn’t be wise for you to try,” Stiles answers.

He leaves the clinic.


End file.
